Spectrums by wind rider

Fanwork Information

Summary:

Trying to answer my own set of challenges; "100 Prompts." A collection of drabbles (from true drabbles to triple drabbles, according to MS Word) spanning the Beginning to the First Age, told through various scenes, in the point of viewof various characters – Elves, Men, Ainur, Dwarves, Ents, animals, and even orcs; not chronologically. Ratings may vary. Enjoy!

Major Characters:

Major Relationships:

Artwork Type: No artwork type listed

Genre:

Challenges:

Rating: General

Warnings:

Chapters: 5 Word Count: 717
Posted on 29 July 2011 Updated on 22 August 2011

This fanwork is a work in progress.

1. Fire

Genre: Horror

 

Rating: r

 

Warning: gruesome battle/defeat

 

Summary: The Battle of Sudden Flames, in Aegnor’s point of view.

Read 1. Fire

The dragon roared. People scattered like leaves in the wind, trying to avoid it. Many were not lucky. Caught between the Worm’s deadly breath and the molten lava pouring forth from Thangorodrim, they had nowhere to flee. Their screams were swallowed by the cacophony, and their bodies shrivelled in the searing and devouring heat. The plains were aglow with fell light.

 

Aegnor watched as his brother Angrod and his troops were overwhelmed first, two leagues away, and then it was his and his men’s turn.

 

He did not scream. He laughed and cried in bitter irony instead. Fell Fire, indeed.


Chapter End Notes

Aikanáro (Aegnor’s Quenya name) means Fell Fire.

2. Pet

Genres: Drama, Family

 

Rating: G

 

Notes: This piece takes place in Dorthonion before the Battle of Sudden Flames. Morwen was six years old, while Rían was four. I did not find the names of their mothers in The Silmarillion, so I made up one according to the need of this piece. Taliska was their language, so I thought it would not be right to make the children say “Ada” and “Nana”; it is Sindarin.

 

Summary: a squirrel and a pair of young cousins with differing personalities… Chaos ensues.

Read 2. Pet

“Mama! Morwen stole my squirrel!” Rían shrieked.

 

“It needs to go back to the wilds!” Morwen countered hotly. “Papa and Uncle Belegund said so.”

 

Rían wept and howled. “She can’t live alone!” she pleaded, while trying to seize the contested squirrel from her older cousin’s arms, which was chattering angrily, showing its displeasure at the noises and the jostling. The skin of Morwen’s arms was streaked red from its claws and the front of her dress was similarly torn.

 

Mellenel sighed with tired exasperation and put down the laundry basket she had been carrying. Time for some damage control, again.

3. Transportation

Genres: Friendship, General Rating: G Summary: The Lord of Dogs found his match in the Heiress of Doriath… Who would win the contest?

Read 3. Transportation

“Why did you obey him?” Luthien raged. “You know how blockheaded he can be!” She glared at Huan. “Do not look at me like that. You are not gaining my compassion by looking piteous.”

 

Huan whined and licked her hand. She shoved his muzzle away. “Stop that!” But she was trying to stifle a smile at the same time. “Fine. You let him go while I told you otherwise. So now you ought to bear me to him. You would not disobey him too, then.”

 

Huan huffed and grinned. Luthien gave him a last glare, packed, then mounted his back.


Chapter End Notes

The “he” Luthien talked about was of course Beren. This was when Beren had left them in Doriath to go to Angband alone. This piece is an homage to Philosopher at Large’s marvelous screenplay-script rendering of the Lay of Leithian.

4. Plants

Genre: General

 

Rating: G

 

Notes: A double drabble. A companion piece to my story Brother Mine. Ereinion (Erin) was ten years old and Erestor (Eros) was one hundred years old. The story takes place in Hithlum, in Fingolfin’s fortress inherited by Fingon.

 

Summary: Little Ereinion could be obstinate about things. How did people go about melting his resolve? Erestor was new to this, but it did not mean that he was not up to the task…

Read 4. Plants

“But those are just plants, Eros,” Ereinion protested. The argument had been as old as his previous tutor’s trying to teach him about plants and their aspects. Surely Master Galadel had told his successor that?

 

But Erestor just stared at him blankly, then, when the argument registered in his mind, exasperatedly. Why had he agreed to Lord Fingon to teach his son? He had been just a messenger from Lord Turgon, and he could have refused the request. Well, there was no use crying over spilled milk.

 

He brought Ereinion out to the garden. There he showed the child some athelas, bade him to smell the leaves, crushed some in his hand and asked Ereinion to do it again. Then they visited the kitchens for a small basin and heated water. He dumped the crushed leaves into the steaming container, and a unique fragrance went up.

 

Ereinion’s eyes lit up. “Can we bring it to the study, Eros?” he pleaded. “Perhaps we can have it every time too?”

 

“Could, Erin, could,” Erestor admonished, but he was smiling. “So now you would learn some more about it and its brethren?”

 

The child nodded eagerly. Erestor smirked to himself. One problem solved.

5. Threats

Genre: Horror Rating: R Warnings: gruesome talk, gruesome idea… What do you expect from orcs? Please proceed with caution! Summary: Radog and Otol, two (from many) orcs stationed about the Echoriath after Húrin had revealed the location of Gondolin, were fighting over a fresh kill. Who won?

Read 5. Threats

 

Radog snarled. “It’s mine,” he barked. The Elven scouting team had been beaten back, leaving only one dead in the battlefield. But the orcs had been all killed except the quarrelling two.

 

Otol sneered. “I killed it, you sneak.” He pointed at his naked scimitar in emphasis, then gestured at the Firstborn’s body some yards away with it. Fresh red blood dripped from the rustic blade. “Your fault you didn’t kill any. Those cowards’ve fled back to their hole, eh? No time to grab one, now?” He croaked with laughter, like a vulture in sight of prey.

 

Growling like an enraged warg, Radog swung his scimitar at the other orc. Ranks were forgotten now that there was a promise of fresh Elven flesh and there were only the two of them on site. “I’ll chop you small, maggot, and eat you with the treat.”

 

“I’ll feed you to the mangy beasts and tell them to report to the Great One that I won the battle alone. Then he’ll award me.” Otol snorted. He met Radog’s sword with his with wicked enthusiasm.

 

In the ensuing fight, their quarrelled object, not half as dead as they had thought, crept away to safety.


Chapter End Notes

“The mangy beasts” were of course the wargs. Heh, now who was the cleverer between the two?


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